


Rings: A Tiny!Cas Fanfiction

by rain_fa3ri3



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic Fluff, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Miniature Castiel (Supernatural), Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, casdean - Freeform, shrunken!Castiel, tiny!Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:15:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25901173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_fa3ri3/pseuds/rain_fa3ri3
Summary: Dean had always been good with his hands. If Baby broke down, he fixed her up; if Sammy was hurt, he sewed gashes and realigned bones; he made an EMF reader from an old walkman; he rebuilt guns, made shivs, and knew how to whip up the best pancakes and burgers on this side of the Atlantic. And, these last four years, he’s used them to care for Cas. Not that he didn’t before, but since his angel was shrunken...well, ‘personal space’ went out the window. At first, it was because Dean found Cas too damn cute, and the situation funny. Then it was concern, when it lasted longer than expected, and terror, whenever Cas was injured. And love, once their relationship became official. Tender strokes, soft kisses, sweet hugs. Cas lying on his chest, Cas sitting in his palm, Cas pressed against his cheek…And now, Dean Winchester is using his hands for one of the most important things he’s ever done: making an engagement ring for Cas.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [@/ask-tinycas tumblr blog](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/667021) by Jennilah. 



> Heya! I am obsessed with the @/ask-tinycas blog on tumblr, and this is my take on an alternate ending for it! The blog is now complete, and I reeeeeally hope you check it out, Jennilah is amazingggg.  
> Anyway, hope you like this fic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (if you haven't read the blog, Cas is shrunken to 4 inches tall by a trickster, and has wings and a halo. That's pretty much all the context you need. Enjoy!)

Dean had always been good with his hands. If Baby broke down, he fixed her up; if Sammy was hurt, he sewed gashes and realigned bones; he made an EMF reader from an old walkman; he rebuilt guns, made shivs, and knew how to whip up the best pancakes and burgers on this side of the Atlantic. And, these last four years, he’s used them to care for Cas. Not that he didn’t before, but since his angel was shrunken...well, ‘personal space’ went out the window. At first, it was because Dean found Cas too damn cute, and the situation funny. Then it was concern, when it lasted longer than expected, and terror, whenever Cas was injured. And love, once their relationship became official. Tender strokes, soft kisses, sweet hugs. Cas lying on his chest, Cas sitting in his palm, Cas pressed against his cheek…

And now, Dean Winchester is using his hands for one of the most important things he’s ever done: making an engagement ring for Cas. It’s been hard, finding ways to get away and work on the ring unnoticed. He’d watched countless videos online about how to create miniscule objects, watching people carve pencil tips and make jewelry for dolls. 

They made it look so easy. 

Dean could typically learn quickly by watching someone else. And he’d figured that after years of handling someone so tiny and delicate, his hands would perfectly perform for him- but nope. 

“Fuck!” He shakes out his hand, then sucks on the finger he’d pinched with the pliers. Again. He’d gone to a craft store and bought the thinnest wire he could find, as well as the most slender pliers. Both of them hurt like a bitch.

He is on his fifth attempt now. The first two he’d smushed with the pliers. The next three had been formed successfully, but when he’d tried to weld the tiny gap, he’d wound up melting the ring- and burning his thumb. But Dean is determined to get this one right. 

Dean readjusts his glasses with magnifying lenses and sets back to work. He is taking the tiny ring off of the pliers when a knock at the door startles him, and the ring falls to the garage floor. “Shit, shit, shit…” He bends to search for the ring, and barely registers the door opening. He fumbles on the ground for a few seconds before yanking off the glasses and continuing his search. Sam talks in the background, and his footsteps come closer. 

“Not now, Sam…”

“But Dean, its-”

“I said not  _ now _ , for fucks sake-”

“It’s Cas!”

At that, Dean jolts up and smacks his head on the table bottom. “Son of a bitch- whats wrong? Is he okay?” Dean rises up and turns to see Sam. Sam’s eyebrows are bunched together, and he can’t keep his hands still. “ _ Well _ ?”

“It may be nothing, Dean, he’s probably okay, I mean-”

“ _ Sam- _ ”

“It’s just that...he’s missing. He was supposed to meet Kevin a while ago to look over some more of his notes, and he didn’t show. Me and Kev have been looking for him for the past hour and a half, but we cant- we can’t find him-  _ Dean _ !”

Dean cuts Sam off as he runs past him, calling Cas’s name. 

Heart pounding, adrenaline pumping, Dean tears through the bunker, yelling- pleading. He looks in Cas’s usual spots- in the laundry, in their bed, in his old nest; hell, he even checks the closets and bathtubs and all the sticky traps. Nothing.

And it could be nothing. Just that Cas wanted to go out for a bit of flying time, or that he fell asleep somewhere and just didn’t hear Dean. He wouldn’t be worried so much, except Cas had taken ill from a recent hunt they were on - some of Crowley’s demons had come up with a spell that could weaken angels, and Cas had insisted on coming along. Dean knew it was a bad idea, but Cas had been determined. And wound up getting hurt. 

So, naturally, Dean jumps to the worst conclusion, even after all this time: Cas is hurt worse….or  _ gone _ . Gone, like he left Dean, which he deserved after what he’d said... or gone like...but no. He can’t think that way. Even though there are birds of prey and raccoons and god know what else out there...He has to find Cas.

He searches the bunker for a full thirty minutes, scouring every inch. Then he goes outside, heart pounding in his throat. Dean sprints the perimeter of the bunker, searching in bushes, the sky, and he finds that he’s crying, shouting Cas’s name. They’d had a fight just before Dean left to work on the ring. Dean had been worrying over Castiel, and Cas had gotten irritated at himself, at his size, at his self perceived uselessness - and at Dean for treating him so delicately. He pushed Dean away, told him he didn’t need mothering - among other things. Dean was hurt, and tired, and stressed, and he snapped back. His own words ring in his ears now:  _ If you weren’t so helpless and small you wouldn’t - but you are, so you do. Get used to it. _

He knew instantly how much that hurt Castiel, just how badly he’d fucked it up this time. And maybe this was the last time. 

Stumbling blindly around the surrounding forest and fields, old fears that Cas would leave him surging back. He runs and yells until he trips and falls in the middle of a meadow, the one he and Cas blew dandelions in. Then the panic really sets in. He can’t control his breathing. His hands tear through his hair and claw at his arms. When he catches his breath, he stutters over the name Castiel, over and over and over. 

And he barely feels the tiny tug on his pants leg.

Barely hears the feeble voice calling his name.

“ _ Dean _ .”

Dean looks down, unbelieving, stunned into rigid silence. And there he is, his angel. 

His bloody, tattered, broken winged angel…

“Cas, oh fuck,  _ Cas _ !” Dean scoops up the little angel as carefully as he can, but winces when Castiel groans in pain. Dean holds Cas to his chest and runs back to the bunker. Cas tries to talk, but Dean shushes him, wanting him to save his energy. They make it to the bunker in record time, Dean shaking and Castiel breathing too slowly. “ _ Kevin _ !  _ Sam _ !” The pair come rushing over to the stairs from opposite sides of the bunker and meet Dean at the bottom. 

“What the hell happened?” Sam asks, running a hand through his hair at the sight of Castiel and Dean, both tattered. 

“No time, just- just  _ fix him _ !” Dean pleads. 

Sam offers to take Cas, but Dean refuses to let go. So, Sam and Kevin just lean in close to examine him. 

Castiel lies bent in Dean’s hands, both wings at odd angles, and several cuts and bruises showing through his torn clothing. Dean knows he was lucky to find him in time…

“I’ll set his wings. Kevin, can you get some pain meds? He looks pretty roughed up. Dean-” Sam looks his brother in the eye. “Stay calm. He’ll be okay. We’ll help him.”

Dean nods, but still can’t stop shaking. He walks with Sam into the library and awkwardly shrugs off his flannel one-handed. He lays it on the table, and reluctantly sets Castiel on top of it. 

He can’t stop staring at his angel, at how bad he looks, when only a few hours before, even sick, he’d looked so much better. He watches the tiny chest creep up and down, up and down, and knows he shouldn't have left to go sulk alone in the garage; he shouldn’t have had his head in his ass, and realize only too late how much he had hurt Cas; he shouldn't have said it in the first place...

“Dean... _ Dean _ !” 

Dean jolts when Sam grabs his shoulder. 

“You might not want to be in the room for this. Remember last time?” Sam squeezes Dean’s shoulder, both of them remembering how much Cas had screamed.

“No. I-I need to be here for him.”

Dean expected more protest, but Sam simply nods. The men shift positions, Dean finally able to move. Dean sits in a chair to Castiel’s right, arm across the table, forefinger and thumb holding Cas’s left hand. He can feel a tiny pulse, light as a feather- but there. Kevin brought in the supplies Sam would need for two splints, and is now prepping pain medication. Sam lightly grasps Cas’s left wing, and even with that Castiel moans and flinches. Sam sets the wing, and the screaming is like nothing Dean has ever heard. Cas grabs Dean’s finger in both arms, squeezing to a point that Dean thinks it may break. Even at this size, even so battered and riddled with sickness, Castiel is still so strong. How could Dean ever have said what he did earlier? How could he have been so stupid…

Dean doesn’t hide the tears as Castiel screams and writhes after Sam sets his other wing. Dean lays his head on his arm, looking at Castiel as he rubs his side with his thumb. The angel trembles and whimpers, still not fully conscious, but still clinging to Dean’s forefinger. Sam puts on the splints, and by the time he’s done Kevin has made a small dose of potion for Cas. Dean lets Cas keep gripping his finger, and props him up. Using his other hand he opens Cas’s mouth, and Kevin slips in a bit of diluted pain medication with a dropper. 

They wait for a few minutes, Castiel cupped in Dean’s palms, the three men sitting in chairs at the research table. Dean watches Castiel’s face, wanting nothing more than to heal him. He looks at his tattered clothes, his scrapes and blooming bruises, and his wings- those once thick, beautiful things are now taped to splints, broken, feathers disheveled with many missing. They remind Dean of a bird he saw once on a hunt; it was in the woods, lying on the leaves after being attacked by something- lying there... _ dead _ ...

But Castiel is  _ alive _ . He still has Dean’s finger in a vice-like grip, so Dean knows there is still pain, but he can see Castiel’s face relaxing, if ever so slightly. He sits in that hard chair for hours. Night falls, and Sam and Kevin retire to bed eventually. But Dean stays rigid, not even feeling the pain in his back and neck, nor how stiff his arms are. He just sits with Castiel, holding him, stroking his back between his wings in the way Dean knows he likes the best. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Castiel stirs. Dean thinks he imagined it at first, but when the angel groggily opens his eyes, Dean has to muffle a cry of relief. The tiny blue irises are rimmed with red, and both eyes are a little puffy. Cas gazes at Dean for a while, and Dean looks back, crying silently, but smiling. Eventually Cas looks around, and cries out when he flexes his wings. Dean keeps rubbing his back, humming Led Zepplin to sooth him. After about thirty minutes, Cas coughs a few times, clears his throat, and lets out a soft, scratchy, “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.” Dean gives a half smile, then looks down. “Cas- Castiel, I screwed up, man. I’m sorry. This is all my fault. It was dumb, and I didn’t mean it, not a word. I’m  _ so  _ sorry, sweetheart. I-”

“ _ Dean _ .” 

Even in this state, with every factor playing in, Castiel still sounds commanding. Dean looks up.

“It’s okay, Dean. We are both at fault, you no more than I. And before you can argue this, I have to say, I did provoke you. Sort of a ‘self punishing’ technique that I picked up over the years of being around Winchesters.” Cas gives a shy smile, rubs Dean’s finger, then continues. “After you left, I did feel bad, yes, but I knew that you were not well either, and probably did not mean what you said.” He pauses a few moments. “I did have a panic attack- Dean, no, no, it’s okay!”

Dean had jolted when Cas said this, ashamed for causing him even more pain than he’d thought. He runs a hand over his face and nods for Cas to continue. 

Castiel squeezes Dean’s finger and kisses the tip. “I calmed myself down, like you taught me, then I went out to fly. The sickness was not as bad, and I had thirty minutes before I needed to meet Kevin. I thought it would calm me down more.”

“But how’d you get out?” The bunker door is too heavy for Castiel to move on his own.

“Well...Sam went out for a quick run…”

Dean nods. “So you followed him out.”

“Yes. I flew around a bit, visited the meadow where we had that picnic and blew the dandelions, and was feeling a bit better, but then…” Castiel takes a shaky breath, and holds Dean’s finger tighter. “There was...a hawk. She grabbed my wings, crushed the bones in her talons.” Castiel starts shaking again, and Dean shifts to grab Cas’s right hand between his fingers, and rubs Cas’s back with his other hand. “Thank you, Dean. It was...worse than any other pain. It was hard to stay conscious, but I was able to scratch the bird with my angel blade. She dropped me, and I fell about twenty feet. The bird landed near me, kept attacking, and I was finally able to stab her in the eye. She flew away after that. About an hour later, you arrived, thankfully only a few feet away, and I crawled over to you, let myself succumb to unconsciousness.”

Dean keeps rubbing Cas’s back. “I’m so sorry, Cas. Man, I-I let you down. If I hadn’t of said that, none of this would’ve happened. If I’d just-”

“ _ Dean _ .” 

Dean looks into Castiel’s eyes and sees how tired he is, how much he is hurting, but also that look he always gets when he says Dean’s name: the same one as when he says ‘I love you.’ 

“Dean, _ I forgive you _ . Like I said, we are both at fault, and I do not blame you. And I am honestly not up to argue at the moment.” Cas smiles weakly at Dean, his lips thin over taunt skin. All Dean wants to do- feels like he  _ needs  _ to do- is apologize, to try and make up for what he’d caused, but he knows that Cas needs his help more than excuses. 

“Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course, Dean.”

“Let’s get you to bed, Angel. You look exhausted.” 

Cas squeezes Dean’s finger as Dean picks him up, stifling a cry at the pain in his wings. Dean cringes as he stands, and starts humming  _ Smoke On the Water _ , trying to calm the both of them.

“Dean, it’s 4am. Why did you stay up?”

“What?” Dean stops short in the hall, in front of Kevin’s room. Castiel looks up at him, and Dean stares back. “‘S’not like I haven’t pulled an all-nighter before. ‘Sides, I care about you. More than anything.” Dean clears his throat and continues walking down the hall to their room. Dean turns on a bedside lamp, then turns off the main light, leaving them in semi-darkness. Castiel has yet to speak. “So...where would be best for you to sleep?” Dean asks, avoiding Cas’s gaze.

“Could...could I sleep on your chest?” Castiel says quietly. Then, quicker, “If you don’t want me to, that’s understan-”

“Yes!” Dean clears his throat again. “I mean, sure, yeah, if you want, that’s fine.” He pauses, then lays down on the bed fully dressed (except for the flannel he took off earlier) and gently lays Cas on his lower chest, face down. He then rubs Cas’s back, and the angel lets out a sigh. Dean turns off the light. They lay like this in silence for a while, neither able to sleep despite how badly they need to. Dean finally summons the courage to break it.

“Cas...I love you.”

“I love you too, Dean. Please do not beat yourself up over this. I wish I could do something to ease your mind.”

“This is helping.”

“Good. Could I have a kiss?”

“Of course,” Dean smiles. He bends his neck forward and kisses the top of Castiel’s head. Dean waits until he hears Castiel’s tiny snores before he lets himself fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here *throws this chapter at you* have some god damn fluff (and a bit of monologuing)

Castiel wakes up before Dean. He flexes his digits, his limbs, rolls his neck. His body hurts, but it is a tolerable nuisance - it’s just his wings. Well, not really ‘just’; they hurt a bit less than yesterday, but it’s still more than any pain he’s ever had physically. Castiel adjusts so he can watch Dean sleeping. Even in the dark, he can see the deep purple bags under his eyes, small cuts all over his face - possibly from branches - and the bandage on his lower neck under which lies a gash made by one of Crowley’s demons. 

Castiel’s gaze lingers at the bandage that is longer than he is tall, knowing it needs to be changed, and that, were he at full power - at full size - he could eliminate any need for it at all. Dean’s jibe from the day before floats into his mind, but Castiel pushes it away, or at least tries to. 

Dean’s heartbeat thunders through Castiel’s body, and his snores rumble in Cas’s ears. Everyone has gotten used to using lowered voices around Cas over the years, ever since he mentioned how loud everything was at this size. Especially Dean; he’s never forgotten. Sam and Kevin have, in excitement or fear, but Dean...even when he’s angry, or they’re on hunts, he keeps his tone lowered just a few decibels. Dean does everything he can to make things easier for Castiel at this size - and Cas knows this, it’s just that he can’t help feeling like a hindrance, even now, after all these years. What if Dean tires of him? What if he wants someone who can do more, be more, help more, love more adequately than Cas can at this size?

Castiel lets out a sigh and buries his face in Dean’s shirt, clenching the fabric in his hands. At his movement, Dean’s breathing hitches; there’s a grumble, then a yawn. Then Cas is shifted as Dean raises the hand that’s not resting on Castiel’s back to rub over his own face and get the crust out of his eyes. 

There’s a mumbled, “Cas? Youmfokay?” 

And then those brilliant green eyes that only Castiel could see in a room this dark open, and Father, how they reflect the little strip of light from under the door…

“Cas?” Dean is alert now, in half a second flat. He blinks in the dark, squinting at Castiel. “Cas?” Dean says again, quieter this time, more uncertain. 

Castiel lowers his face to Deans shirt and grips the fabric in his hands again. He feels Dean brush a finger through his hair, trail it down his spine. Then there’s humming, a low rumble that vibrates through Castiel’s whole body and seems to wrap him in warmth.

“What song is that?” he asks into Dean’s shirt, not sure if Dean will be able to hear him.

“It’s not,” Dean says. “Just somethin’ I made up.” He continues humming.

“I like it.” Castiel raises his head again to look at those green, green eyes and rests his chin on his hands. Dean stares back, and Castiel sees the pain in those eyes, can feel it radiating from his soul. “It’s not your fault, Dean.”

Dean’s humming falters, and he clears his throat. “Cas...I was stupid. I didn’t think. I-”

“Dean-”

“No, please, let me finish.” He waits for Castiel to nod, then continues. “I didn’t _think_. I was worried and hurt and scared, and I said the thing that I knew would hurt you. Didn’t think about the consequences. Didn’t think about how you were probably trying to provoke me.” He runs his hand over his face again and takes a breath. “It was condescending and patronizing and harsh and stupid. So, so _stupid_. I…” Dean looks up, raises a hand, then lets it fall to the bed. “ _Castiel_.”

Cas sees tears forming in Dean’s eyes. Before he can say anything, Dean rushes on.

“You...are everything to me. You’ve saved me so many times, in so many ways, and I owe you everything. And, man, I can’t ever compare to you; you’re a freakin’ Angel of the Lord, for fuck’s sake.”

“But-”

“No ‘buts’, Cas. I don’t care if you’re an angel, human, normal sized, shrunken, or the size of the fucking Chrysler building, you’re still  _ you _ . The being, entity, guy, whatever, that I’m in love with. And I take for granted that I have you sometimes, and I don’t prove to you enough what you mean to me, and I guess I can blame it on my past, on dad, on all the people I’ve lost; I’m not saying that’s a good excuse, but I’m gonna do better. You deserve the world, Cas. And I’m not gonna stop ‘till I give it to you. We’re gonna fix this, put you right - and I know we’ve said that for years, but I swear, man, we will. I swear on my mom.” 

Dean stops and looks to the left of Castiel, runs a finger roughly under his eyes and clears his throat again, then nods curtly and looks at Cas, pleading.

Castiel stares back, a little shocked, still kind of groggy, and not at all certain what to say. After what feels like an eternity, Castiel forces himself into a sitting position as Dean hovers his hands nearby and jumps at each of Cas’s groans - but he doesn’t protest. Castiel’s breathing is ragged, and his teeth are gritted against the pain. He gives himself a minute, then somehow manages to stand. He sees Dean biting his bottom lip and eyeing Castiel’s trembling figure worriedly. But he moves on, walking - dragging his legs - from Dean’s upper stomach to just in front of where Dean’s chin lies tucked against his chest. They are now eye to eye.

Castiel looks at Dean’s face, head tilted, taking in every inch. He leans forward and runs a hand down Dean’s stubbled cheek, though every bone in his body aches. Dean’s lips twitch into a crooked smile, but when Cas looks up, he still sees worry in his eyes. 

“Cas, say somethin’, man,” Dean whispers. His warm breath washes over Castiel with the scent of whisky. 

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel says, looking into Dean’s right eye. “Everything I’ve done these past years, since I pulled you from hell, has been for you. I’ve watched the world grow, watched humanity grow, since the Beginning, and I don’t want that; I want  _ you _ .  _ You  _ are my world. You represent everything that I’ve ever believed in, but in a way I never could have imagined.” Castiel smiles and looks down. “ _ You _ have saved  _ me _ , Dean. I rebelled because of you; I did all of it for you. You‘ve given me perspective; granted me emotions and feelings I’d never known; taught me how to be human, and shown me exactly what that means and where it counts. Humanity has flaws. Angels have flaws, as does the supernatural, as does God. As do you and I.

“Dean, I almost killed you under Naomi’s mind control. I nearly destroyed humanity by letting in the leviathan. I’ve done far worse than you even know in my past. I’ve ‘screwed up’ and failed so many of my brethren, as well as you, on many occasions. There is not a thing called ‘perfection,’ not even in the divine, though many seek and fail to find it there.” 

Castiel looks back up at Dean and goes on. “You need not apologize, Dean. We have both done much worse than what has transpired here. Though, since you have already done so, I do accept your apology. You must know you did not cause this, Dean. It was pure happenchance, and my own stupidity, combined. As I said yesterday, it was my own fault: I provoked you, I chose to go fly, I didn’t sense the hawk when I normally would have been hyper aware of my surroundings. You did not personally break my wings, therefore I can hold no blame over you.” Castiel kisses the tip of Dean’s nose. “Besides, even if I did blame you, I would still forgive you, because I love you, and I know you love me. That’s what matters.”

Castiel watches as Dean looks him over, eyes scanning every inch of his body. In his peripheral he sees Dean raise a hand, then his fist closes on air. “Damnit,” Dean says, moving his hand to rake through his hair, “I wanna hold you so bad, wanna kiss you and hold you and - and...I wanna help, but I don’t know how.”

“You do help, Dean. You  _ are _ helping.” 

Dean smiles softly. “I love you so fucking much.” After a pause, he says “I just hate seeing you hurting.”

“I believe that is a good thing,” Castiel says with a grin.

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, yeah, it is. Can- can I have another kiss?” Castiel can see him blushing.

Castiel moves forward and kisses both of Dean’s cheeks and the tip of his nose in answer. 

Dean just beams.

**

They lay together for a few more hours, both dozing in and out of consciousness. Until Castiel starts coughing. 

“Cas?!” Dean is instantly alert, and Castiel can feel his tensed muscles underneath him. 

“I- I’m,” he coughs a few more times before he can give a weak, “fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Dean says distractedly. “You’re shaking, sweetheart.” Castiel can see Dean’s brow furrowed in concern as he strokes a gentle finger down Castiel’s spine over and over. “And warm again…”

“I think the curse is coming in waves. It is about the same intensity as last time.”

“I need to find a cure- I know Sam and Kev are looking, but I need to help, I need to fix it-”

“What you  _ need  _ is a shower.”

Dean pauses for a moment, then huffs, a dumbfounded smile turning up the corners of his lips. “What are ya tryin’ to say, Cas?”

“That your wounds need tending to before they get infected, and-” Another coughing fit wracks his body, and Castiel takes a minute to steady himself before continuing, deadpan, “And you do have quite a pungent odor at the moment.”

Dean laughs, throwing his head back into the pillows. “Thanks, Cas, for your unwavering honesty.” Dean suddenly sobers. “What about you, though?”

“I can stay here, I’ll be-”

“Nope, not gonna happen,” Dean cuts across. “I’m not letting you outta my sight. Besides, I’ve got an idea.”

Dean carefully gathers Castiel in his hands and heads to the bathroom where he makes a small nest on the counter with some of their softest towels. “How’s that?”

“It’s great, Dean. Thank you.”

Dean sets Castiel gently on the pile, and Castiel burrows under the fabric, minding his wings, but needing the warmth. Every part of him still aches, and the pain in his wings is making him light headed, but lying here with his eyes closed and the steam from the shower enveloping him, he feels calm; he feels like everything will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far! I hope you're loving this AU as much as I do! :)


End file.
